


Crash

by crowdedangels



Series: Fell Off The Road to Heaven [1]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Adultery, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 20:05:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8298842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowdedangels/pseuds/crowdedangels
Summary: She had the picture perfect house, the beautiful children whom she adored and a husband who would do anything for her. She felt like she couldn't breathe.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Fic and series titles allude to the Scott Stapp song 'Crash' which is awesome. 
> 
> I'm totally against cheating and don't think Sam would, but alas, my fingers produced this.

She hated herself. More than she ever had in all her life. Anxiety had always been a constant background noise, but this wasn't self-doubt; this was hatred. Deep, all-consuming, painful hate that twisted dark recesses in her stomach and her heart, and was hidden behind bright eyes and a wide smile.  
  
She had kissed Pete away for the weekend, their two kids buckled into the back of the beige people-carrier and excited for their camping trip. Sam was to meet them the next day after she had finished her reports and didn't have to keep one eye on what their youngest was sticking in her mouth, nor keep one hand free to stop their eldest passing his sister such things.  
  
She had the picture perfect house, the beautiful children whom she adored and a husband who would do anything for her. She felt like she couldn't breathe.  
  
She loved her children. There was no question that they were the best thing she had ever done that wasn't career-related. Pete Jr (it was a family tradition. She wanted Matthew. She managed to get Jacob as a middle name eventually) had certainly changed her career drastically with his somewhat surprise arrival. She was in R&D now, had only gone through the gate twice in the four years since his birth and that was only to the Alpha Site. And she never told Pete.  
  
She missed the travel but it was nothing compared to having her child snuggle up under her chin all warm from a bath with their favourite book under their arm and a thumb in their mouth. She never fully appreciated how much a child changed everything and how fine you could be with it.  
  
She sat down at the large dining table with a mug of tea, her files spread out across the surface and piled on the chair next to her. The house was silent. She took a minute to listen to that; to breathe in the void of sports on the tv, of Amelia's singing teddy bear, of Pete Jr's lightsabre knocking over all of the picture frames in the hall.  
  
She had finished the top page - just that one freakin' page - when the doorbell rang. She groaned, her head lowering to the table in exasperation as the bell rang again.  
  
"Carter," Jack smiled from her front step. "Wasn't sure you'd be able to hear me from the east wing."  
  
He always added another annex to the house whenever saw it, never openly commenting on the fact he could never have envisioned this house for her, never mind this life.  
  
"Jack," she could call him that now; he was over a year into retirement. "What brings you by?  
  
"You left this at the Mountain."  
  
She took the proffered file and stepped to the side. "Katyr finally finished it, I'm shocked."  
  
Jack stood in the hall, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Retirement was treating him well; he met Teal'c at the Mountain a few times a month for a sparring session and occasionally used the gym there, ignoring the bells and whistles of an incoming wormhole unless it was interesting enough. Now - he explained once with mock amazement - he went to this place where they showed movies on big screens and you could fall asleep in the dark and no one noticed! He looked relaxed, happy, more so than he had for a few years. "Yeah, he told me to tell you...something in Polish."  
  
"Ah, helpful."  
  
"I aim to please." He followed her into the dining room, looking around his feet as if he'd lost something. "No rugrats?"  
  
"Not today," she dumped the file with the rest and continued into the kitchen, Jack in tow. "House to myself," she pulled two beers from the fridge.  
  
"You have a kid-free day," he leant his back against the counter top and took a swig of his beer, “and you're working?"  
  
"I plan on taking a bath for about four hours later."  
  
"That sounds more like it."  
  
She smiled. The reports took a back-burner as they fell into easy conversation – the kids' latest shenanigans, what kind of dog he should get, if SG14 were actually better than the new SG1.

 

They had only had two beers each, so they couldn't blame the alcohol. Not that that would have been a good enough excuse. He had asked how everything was and then asked her again and not to lie to him after she had nodded, saying 'fine'. She never could lie to him.

 

She found herself telling him everything – _everything_ – about how Pete was too soft on the kids and saw everything they did as hilarious which left her as the disciplinarian. She missed gate travel, she missed the team, she missed ten years ago. She was sick of having the same arguments with him about the kids, about her work, about whether...

 

She stopped herself, her eyes filling in the rest of the conversation.

 

“About whether you've seen me?”

 

She looked down, “He's still jealous.”

 

“He has no reason to be.”

 

“...Doesn't he?” She shouldn't have said that.

 

He looked at her. She had set her jaw, her eyes were wide and sparkling with tears – it all told him she was sad, disappointed, felt like a failure... he had seen it before but without such volume. He wanted to hug her, but he didn't know if that was such a good idea considering he still wanted to kiss her and had done for nearly twenty years.

 

She didn't stop him when he hoisted her up to the counter-top and insinuated himself between her legs, his lips never leaving hers. She locked her ankles below his buttocks and pulled him further in to her, her nails scraping across his scalp.

 

He pulled at the sides of her shirt, buttons flinging in all directions with little-to-no regard about where when his teeth clamped down on an already hard nipple. She gasped, wetness pooling between her legs at the most high-school of actions. His fingers roughly lowered the bra cups down over her breasts, his teeth reclaiming the nipple while he pinched the other between his fingers.

 

Her fingers scraped at his back, grabbing for purchase on his sweater and pulling it over his head. He reattached his lips to hers, one hand still kneading at her breast, the other smoothing around her body to pinch the bra clasp open. She pulled it off with her shirt and threw it to the floor, a moan escaping when his cold hand fully cupped her breasts, gauging their weight, learning what ministrations made her moan, pant, breathe his name.

 

The latter made him groan in response, his jeans instantly becoming painful as his erection begged for freedom. He snatched at her belt, his fingers scratching her belly in their haste and tangling with hers when she tried to help. He batted them away, kissing her deeply as he undid the button and pulled down the zipper.

 

He'd be damned if he knew how, but he felt her hands down the front of his boxers before he even managed to tease the waistline to her underwear.

 

A curse left his lips, feeling her nimble fingers wrap around his length, squeeze and twist on its journey up then back down. Their haste for completion, for their frantic time together after all these years suddenly slowed to a seduction, a tease, a tell of everything they had missed out on.

 

But, despite the thrill of finally having everything she fantasised about for fifteen years literally in the palm of her hand, she felt the chill of the air hitting her breasts still wet from his mouth, the realisation begin to filter in that she was sat on her kitchen counter-

 

He growled, plunging his hand into her jeans, sliding across her clit and penetrating her with one finger, two, the heel of his hand rubbing against the bundle of nerves. She breathed his name, her back arching, her nails digging into his forearm, his shoulder, his teeth back on her nipple. His tongue flicked, swirled, soothed after his teeth twisted, scraped, pulled, his lips smirking against her as she began panting, slowly cursing deities, flexing her hips in time with his fingers' thrusts. “ _Jack, oh God.._.”

 

She was beginning to falter, noises pinched from her throat as she climbed higher and higher towards completion, _so close, so close._

 

He pulled out, his fingers leaving her and grabbing for the sides of her jeans' waistband, pulling roughly and spreading a trail of her wetness as he dragged them from her legs; she lifted up and toed off her shoes, allowing him to shuck at least one leg completely free and open her to him.

 

Oh, how he wanted to get his tongue in there, make up for lost time and make her climax over and over again in a show of masculine ego. Instead, he pushed his jeans down, grabbed his erection in his hand and guided it to her entrance. She lifted up and sank down on him.

 

It was quick, deep, powerful and wanton. They found a messy rhythm and rode it for all its worth, one hand bracing the counter behind her, the other leaving crescent shapes on his skin as her nails dug further into his shoulder. Her head was tossed back, her eyes clamped shut, her mouth open and soundlessly panting before audibly moaning. She would have bruises from the edge of the counter on the backs of her thighs, but her mind was only concerned with wishes that they had done this before she had had two kids; before she had softened around her mid-rift and gained those two single stretch-marks for each of her kids. She wanted him to have seen her five years ago, when she was at her fittest.

 

He didn't give one single flying fuck about the stretch-marks, he wouldn't have even if she wasn't beginning to pulse around him. Her muscles were clamping down, their rhythm losing synchronicity as they both chased climax. He grunted her name, and again, wishing he was ten years younger and his knees weren't protesting, to when he had abs she had stared at and a darker head of hair. He groaned at the thought of how even better they would have been together then.

 

He licked his thumb and swiped it around her clit and she was gone; a curse left her pretty lips, her body curved in on itself and she was pulsating around him as noises left her throat that he would never be able to forget.

 

The sight of her coming undone around him, because of him, sent him crashing a few beats after.

 

Her head fell to his shoulder.

 

They had managed to avoid that all through their years stationed together, when they wanted to love each other like that so much it practically _hurt_ but had rules and regulations to stop them. They refused basic urges because they were working for something bigger than both of them.

 

What made marriage vows less sacred than Air Force Frat Regs?

 

Wasn't her marriage bigger than both of them? The happy childhood of her son and daughter? He felt tears begin to fall to his shoulder, her body beginning to shudder with a sob and pulled out of her warm body to wrap his arms around her. “I'm sorry, Sam. I'm so sorry.”

 

“We both did it,” she told him with a watery voice, clinging to him. “We both wanted it.”

 

“Yeah, but...”

 

She pulled away then, jumping down from the counter and thankful that her legs could hold her as she bent for her clothes.

 

“Sam?” he zipped himself back into his jeans, fed his arms through his sweater.

 

She turned to him as she was pulling the sides of her shirt together, realising the only buttons left on it where two at the bottom that hadn't been used. She huffed in frustration and dragged her hands through her hair.

 

“We should talk.”

 

“I'd rather not.”

 

He stepped closer, she stepped back. “Sam...”

 

“Not now. I-I need to shower and finish reports and meet Pete and the kids.”

 

He nodded, looking to his feet reluctantly. “I wont call.” He hoped she knew that was an invite to call him instead.

 

She stalked to her bedroom, leaving him to straighten his clothing and question whether to follow her, make them talk, make it alright, but instead he left.

 

 

 

 


End file.
